What Matters
by Misfit Writer
Summary: Set some time after the Prince's announcement. Rosaline and Benvolio have since resigned themselves to their betrothal, and have even started to find enjoyment in each other's company. The Lady Capulet is unwilling to see her niece happy, and decides to do something about it. (Written before Episode 2 aired)
1. Chapter 1

"Well, my dear Lady Rosaline, I believe it would be improper to keep you from your rest any longer. Allow me to walk you back to your quarters?" Benvolio watched his betrothed out of the corner of his eye, fighting to smother a grin. Oh, how far they'd come since their marriage had been arranged by the Prince. Where she'd once looked upon him with disdain, now he would catch her softening and even, at times, smiling when she saw him.

This, it turned out, would be one of those rarities. She shook her head with affection in her eyes and turned to him. "You know that I am but a lowly serving girl, my lord," she murmured, suddenly somber. Her choice of words brought to mind their first meeting, and his own affection warred with surprisingly personal bitterness towards the _Lady_ Capulet.

" _No_ ," he growled. Rosaline's breath caught when he stepped forward into her space, but he couldn't bring himself to care that it might be deemed inappropriate. His hands came up to cradle her face, and his eyes bored into hers to ensure he had her full attention. "Your Aunt may have attempted to smother you beneath the title of servant following the death of your parents, but you and I both know she will _never_ succeed. Your passion, your _fire_ cannot be stifled by that wretch, and once we are wed, you will never suffer at her hand again."

"Benvo-"

"And what, pray tell, do you expect will come of her when her dearly betrothed is cut down in the streets?"

The pair spun to face their intruder, Benvolio stepping easily in front of Rosaline and dropping his hand to his sword. Rosaline's hand settled on his bicep. The slight tremor in her touch set his protective instinct racing, and he tried to place the man before them. "We want no trouble, sir."

"That is unfortunate, _Montague_ , because trouble will be yours. The Lady Capulet will not stand to see filth like you staining the honor of our house. Even if it is with a _lowly serving girl_." The stranger nodded to someone behind them. Rosaline yelped, and Benvolio would have leapt to her defense had the man before him not attacked at the same moment. The clashing of their swords nearly drowned out Rosaline's cry of _"Benvolio!"_ , and it took everything in him to keep his focus on his own fight.

"If your quarrel is with me, then let the lady go! Lord Capulet will not be pleased if she is killed for his wife's vendetta against my house!" Taking an opening, Benvolio kicked his attacker back and glanced over his shoulder. Rosaline was struggling against two other men, one of whom held a dagger to her throat. The sight had the Montague seeing red.

His distraction was just enough, and Benvolio saw horror take over Rosaline's face an instant before agony erupted in his back. She screamed, begging someone to come to their aid. "The Lady did instruct us to leave her alive...but she said nothing about _unharmed_." The taunt, too loud in his ear, had panic jumping into Benvolio's throat. An arm came around his chest to hold him upright and the sword was jerked free. The young lord groaned and would have collapsed if not for the assistance. "I will _so_ enjoy taking your little serving girl while all you can do is watch...and die."

Benvolio was able to keep himself on his feet for several seconds once the support was removed, and his eyes locked on Rosaline's. Tears filled her warm brown gaze, and his increasingly sluggish brain registered the emotion in them to be grief...not fear. Grief for _him_. "Forgive me," he pleaded. The impact of his knees hitting the ground jarred his wound, and he curled in on himself. His vision tunnelled, and he swallowed thickly.

"No! Let me go!"

"Shut up, whore! Your protector is not long for this world, we need to have our fun while we can." Even as a fog seemed to settle over his mind, Benvolio fought to keep himself conscious.

"Get your filthy hands off of me! He-"

A sharp slap echoed through the alleyway, and the soft sound of pain that escaped Rosaline was enough to jolt his system. Drawing in a shaky breath, Benvolio drew on any remaining reserves of strength he possessed, and surged to his feet. Without a word, he stumbled towards the distracted thugs. He drew his own dagger, dispatching one of the three men before the others even noticed that the Montague was back on his feet. The next thug fell to his sword, before Benvolio was stunned by an abrupt punch across the jaw.

"How gallant...not behavior I would have expected out of your pathetic house. This time, I will put you down for good, like the dog that you are. Say goodbye, Montague." Benvolio snarled at him, bracing himself for death now that Rosaline only had one adversary to dispatch herself.

The swift end did not come, though, and the man before him cried out in agony. Benvolio looked up in surprise just as he fell. Rosaline stood behind him, a long blade trembling in her hand. Seeing her before him, defiant, _alive_ , the fight abruptly dissipated from his body and left him wavering once more. Rosaline seemed to notice this, and dropped her weapon to catch him by the elbows. "Benvolio?" She eased him to the ground, cradling him against her. "You need a doctor."

A hollow and weak laugh broke from his chest. "I am not sure there is time, dear Rosaline. You are safe, that is what matters." Her silence registered in his tired mind, and Benvolio looked up to see her staring down at him with fresh tears sliding down her face. He reached up to brush them away with his thumb, and was filled with a resigned sadness. "I believe that...we would have been happy together, given time," he whispered.

"Though the world may not see it, you are a good, kind soul, Benvolio Montague. I do not believe, however, that this is where our journey will end." Her fingers stroked his beard tenderly, and she leaned closer to him. "I have seen the might of your stubborn will...use it now. I need to go and get help, but I need you to fight. Fight for me, for us...stay alive. Your duty to protect me is not yet complete."

It was an underhanded move, but one that showed him just how worried she was for him. He himself had not understood until the attack just _how much_ he had committed to protecting his betrothed...that while there was still breath in his body, he would fight to ensure her safety. Physical or otherwise.

It was that last plea that kept him clinging to consciousness, despite the waves of agony radiating from his back and the darkness threatening to drag him under, until Rosaline returned with two others. He did not have enough awareness to determine how long she'd been gone, nor to identify the newcomers, and once they jostled him even the slightest, he lost the feeble grip he had on reality and slipped away to the soft murmur of Rosaline's voice.


	2. Chapter 2

"Rosaline, you need to _sit down!_ You look ready to collapse!"

The woman in question sent her younger sister a withering look. Of course she was exhausted...it had been a long day even before the attack that itself must have been hours ago. Even so, the Capulet woman could not bring herself to relax while she awaited news. She would never forget the sight of Benvolio going lax in the arms of the Capulet physicians she'd summoned; one of them was quick to assure her that he was still breathing, but she couldn't fully believe it. Not until he was awake to tease her for worrying.

"I will sit down when I have news of Benvolio's condition. How can I be relaxed when he is fighting for his life because of _me_?" Rosaline lamented.

"Then at least talk to me. Tell me what happened...how could this _possibly_ be your fault? That Montague needs no help inciting violence." The way his name rolled off of Livia's tongue like a curse set Rosaline even more on edge than she'd already been.

"' _That Montague'_ is my betrothed; if you disrespect him you now disrespect me," she hissed. Livia raised a surprised brow, and straightened instinctively. Her eyes dropped to the floor in unspoken apology. The surge of anger dissipated, and Rosaline wondered if perhaps she should sit down. With a firm shake of her head, she resumed pacing. "We'd spent the day discussing the wedding and preparing ourselves for the changes to come...he was just about to walk me home when we were interrupted." She paused, rage towards her aunt washing over her. "Three men attacked us...sent by _Lady Capulet_ to...ensure that we do not go through with the wedding."

Livia gasped, surging to her feet and coming to a stop before her sister. "Lady Capulet ordered this?"

Rosaline gave a solemn nod, gaze flickering towards the door where her fiance lay fighting for his life. "She ordered me left alive...but if she had Benvolio killed, she could have her way and keep me from rising above the station she'd given us without making a martyr of me." She stepped around her sister towards the room. "So yes...this is because of me. Had he not been forced to marry me, our aunt would not have seen the need to risk all out war between our houses."

"You have come to care for him, haven't you?" Livia murmured softly. Instinct nearly had Rosaline denying the question, but warmth blossomed in her chest at the thought. Yes...in the weeks following the ordered betrothal, Benvolio Montague had begrudgingly worked his way under her skin and into her heart.

"I have," she whispered, as if admitting it too loud would shatter the tenuous hold she had on her composure. "I would not say that it has come to love...but I would dare to say that he has become my friend."

"What is going on? Why are you up at this ungodly hour?"

Rosaline turned at the voice of her uncle, and saw red. Lady Capulet stood beside him, looking for all the world to be just as confused and concerned as her husband. Livia stepped easily into her path, hands settling onto her shoulders before Rosaline could lunge at their aunt. "Forgive us, my lord, but there has been an attack."

"Oh dear, are you both well?" Lady Capulet questioned, placing a hand to her chest. Rosaline's fists clenched, and her body began to tremble. "Rosaline?"

"You _dare_ feign ignorance in front of me?"

The Lord Montague turned to his wife, confused. "You do not speak to-"

"Would you like to tell him what you have done, or shall I, _my Lady_?" It took everything in her to keep her voice even, and she could feel her sister's worried gaze on her.

"I assure you, I know not of what you speak."

Rosaline could not contain the bitter, disbelieving huff of laughter as she brushed off her sister's touch and stepped around her. "You mean to tell me that it was not you who commissioned men to attack my betrothed and me? It was not _you_ who ordered Benvolio Montague _killed_? That...these thugs just gave us your name for _fun_ in the moments before one of them ran Benvolio through with his sword?"

Satisfaction flashed in her aunt's eyes before she was able to plaster shock and devastation on her face. Her husband inhaled sharply, eyes darting between the two women in shock. "B-Benvolio Montague is _dead_?! Dear God, are you hurt, child?"

Rosaline glared daggers at her aunt, unwilling to reveal the possibility of his survival. "I was not harmed...Benvolio ensured my safety. The only thing he was guilty of is fighting for peace in this city. He was the best of us...the one with the greatest likelihood to achieve that peace. Have you no idea what you've done, all for your own bitter jealousy?"

" _Benvolio Montague_ was far from the best of us. He was the last obstacle to the House of Capulet returning to glory in this city."

"Guiliana," her uncle chided. Disbelief settled into his gaze. "Is what she says true?" The Lady floundered for a moment, clearly unprepared for her husband to challenge her. The Lord scowled, face paling. "You have condemned us all. The union between our houses was the last opportunity we had to end the bloodshed. The Montagues will have nothing to lose without an heir!"

Rosaline glanced over her shoulder towards the door. "There is yet hope that he will survive." She held her aunt's stare with a challenging smirk. The woman's responding sneer was both rewarding and unsettling, but her uncle drew her focus.

"He is not yet dead?"

"Hopefully not for a long while yet...but the physician has not given a report since we arrived." She resumed pacing, the feeling of her aunt's eyes tracking her making the young woman's skin crawl. The worry over her betrothed combined with the fury towards the loathsome woman left her breathless, and the concerned look from her sister suggested that her composure was faltering. She was somewhat surprised to recognize that she could not bring herself to care; where she once would have been in complete control over her feelings, this man had left her thoughts unsettled and her heart unruly.

"I am sure they will be out soon, sister."

"And what of the men who attacked you?" Lady Capulet questioned.

Rosaline felt the last of her restraint snap, and turned on her aunt with a growl. Her uncle moved to step between them, an arm around Rosaline's waist to restrain her. "You disgust me! You cannot even deny your vile act...you would rather see an innocent man dead than your own niece given a title! Those _men_ that you sent after us? They are all dead. At Benvolio's hand...and my own." Her aunt took a step back in shock, and she smirked humorlessly. "He is innocent in your twisted scheme...but he is far from docile." She stared at her family, the smile falling. "It is improper for the Lord and Lady to spend too long in the servants' quarters and others will become curious. Perhaps it is best that you go, until we know Benvolio's fate it would be wise to keep this quiet."

Lord Capulet glanced between his niece and his wife, and Rosaline could tell that there would be quite the conversation between them before their inevitable meeting the following morning. She turned her back to them, staring once more at the door separating her from her fiance, and willing the physicians to give her some kind of news.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time a physician came out to the sisters, Rosaline was still pacing in a desperate attempt to keep herself awake. Livia gently grasped her wrist to catch her attention, and fear turned the eldest sister's stomach when she took in the exhaustion written into every line of the man's face. "Sir Montague?"

"He is lucky to be alive, milady, but he _is_ alive. We have work to do yet, and he has not awoken...but I am confident that he is strong enough to continue fighting."

Tears slipped unbidden past Rosaline's lashes, and she squeezed his hand. "Thank you, Cerimon. I can imagine it is not easy to set aside our family name to save him, but-"

"Not all Capulets wish the Montagues dead, Rosaline. You are a testament to that yourself, milady...I have seen Benvolio attempt to keep the peace between houses on more than one occasion. Besides, I could not bear to see milady grieving any more were there anything to be done to prevent it." He glanced back over his shoulder when his companion called for his return. "Forgive me. As I said, there is still much to be done for your betrothed. We will inform you of any changes. You should rest."

"Thank you," she murmured. Livia squeezed her wrist again, standing to draw Rosaline into a hug.

"He is nothing if not stubborn, you have said as much yourself a dozen times, dear sister. Now that you know of his condition, would you please sit and rest?" Rosaline sighed heavily, finally allowing herself to feel the bone-deep weariness left in the wake of the evening's events. "Even if it is just here, where you can be woken the moment something arises."

In lieu of a response, the elder sister drew back and settled herself onto one of the chairs nearest the door. Unable to hold her exhaustion at bay any longer, sleep claimed her within moments.

Awareness returned to Benvolio in slow-moving waves. For a time, he allowed himself to float in the peace of half-consciousness, wondering what nonsense he, Romeo and Mercutio had gotten themselves into this time.

Then, a pulsing ache began to overwhelm him, and memories came rushing back to his mind. "Rosaline!" The Montague levered himself up onto his elbows, and instantly regretted it. Fire spread from his back and abdomen and stole his breath, but he forced himself to push through the pain.

"Be still, Benvolio! You will undo the work we have done! Lay back!" The stranger hovering over him pressed down on his shoulder, but Benvolio brushed him off, jaw clenched in determination.

"Where is Rosaline Capulet? Is she _safe?_ "

" _Go_ , this fool is going to kill himself if he doesn't see her with his own eyes!" Benvolio held his stare when the man turned back from the door, searching for any sign of deceit. "You are gravely injured, sir. I understand that you are concerned for your betrothed, but what good will you be to her if you are dead?"

Despite the man's apparent sincerity, Benvolio would find no peace with words. With a growl borne of pain and effort, the young lord fought to sit upright. " _Benvolio Montague!_ Do not be an imbecile, lay back down!" The sound of Rosaline's voice was a shock to his system, and his gaze snapped to her face...ashen, weary, but with fire in her eyes. Safe...she was safe.

"Ros," he breathed. The surge of strength his fear had provided abandoned the Montague in his relief, and he gave a low moan as he fell back. "Bloody _hell_ …"

"Breathe," Rosaline murmured, gentle fingers running through his sweat-dampened hair. He obeyed, if only because it was all that he could to to cling to consciousness. Once the haze of gray faded from his vision, and the seductive call of oblivion became a manageable whisper in the back of his mind, a wry grin tugged at his lips. "Only you would find humor in your near-death."

"Forgive me, milady...I simply find it humorous that it would be my near-death that brings out affection in you, exasperated though it might be." Too tired to open his eyes and look up at her face, he imagined the roll of her eyes and twitch of her full lips as she fought to smother a smile. The edge of the mattress dipped slowly, and despite his best efforts to conceal his pain, Benvolio was unable to stop a wince at the jostling. Rosaline murmured a strained apology, which he waved off weakly. He finally forced his eyes to open and trace the lines of her face. "I am relieved to know that you are safe."

"As I am relieved that you are _alive_...which I fear will not last if you continue to push yourself, stubborn Montague. Listen to your physicians, they have put too much effort into saving your life for you to toss it away."

Despite the stern tone of her voice, Benvolio had learned to read his betrothed well enough to recognize the undercurrent genuine concern. "Demanding as ever, fair Rosaline," he teased lightly. "If only for fear of your wrath should I disobey, you have my word that I will comply with their instruction." Even as he spoke, exhaustion began to reclaim him.

The young Montague despised how quickly his weakness was overwhelming him, but the tender affection seeping into Rosaline's eyes as he drifted off eased the protective instinct lingering from their ordeal. "Rest well, dear Benvolio."

Rosaline hesitated at the door and looked back once more to the too-pale form of her fiance. Despite his frail state, she could not help but be drawn to the firm lines of his bare chest. She followed those lines to the cloth bandages protecting his wound, and anxiety twisted in her chest. How had this man come to mean so much? How had he gotten under her skin so, that losing him would be truly devastating to her? Cerimon's apprentice stepped into the room, immediately assessing Benvolio's injury to insure it had not reopened.

"Is all well, sister?" Livia's timid voice drew her from her musings, and she turned with a nod. "Good...His Grace is here...he asked to see Benvolio, but Cerimon refused any others to disturb him. Prince Escalus wishes to speak with you."

Rosaline closed the door as gently as possible, took a slow, steadying breath, and followed Livia to where the Prince waited. Escalus visibly relaxed when she came into view, and he strode forward to meet her halfway across the room. Livia excused herself to give them privacy.

"Your Grace, pray tell, what brought you here at this early hour?" It bothered her that he clearly knew of the evening's events and of Benvolio's condition; her uncle would not have risked news getting out of the Capulet attack on the last remaining family member of Lord Montague. That sounded more like her aunt.

Escalus gave her a bemused look. "You know precisely why I am here, Rosaline. Were you harmed?"

"No, my prince. I am well. Benvolio, though, was grievously wounded. He woke briefly just moments ago, but I worry that he may have used more strength than he possessed in his fear for my safety."

"My apprentice is with him now, and will continue to monitor his condition as he rests," Cerimon explained to Escalus. Both the prince and the young woman nodded, and Rosaline squeezed his arm in gratitude.

"Speaking of rest...you must be exhausted after working ceaselessly to ensure his survival. Please, you have done so much, go and rest. After I speak to His Grace, I will have your apprentice instruct me how to monitor Benvolio so that he can sleep as well. I would ask that you are the ones to care for him until he is stable...I cannot be sure who else to trust in this house, and I will not risk his life further."

Cerimon gave her a tired smile, and bowed to both of them. "Of course, milady. I am grateful for the reprieve, and I will return soon. Your Grace, please excuse me."

Escalus nodded to the man before focusing all of his attention on Rosaline. "When I first ordered your marriage to Benvolio Montague, I can truly say that I would never have expected any concern for his wellbeing, let alone this."

Rosaline watched him carefully for a moment, trying to discern the unspoken meaning in his words. "He was willing to lay down his life for mine," she responded vaguely.

"Recount the events of yesterday evening if you will, milady?"

"If I may be so bold, who informed you of the incident?" Judging by the surprise and unease in the prince's eyes, Rosaline guessed that he was caught off guard by her unwillingness to be open with him. Where once she might have told him anything he asked of her, she now felt an unfamiliar sense of caution in his presence.

"A messenger sent by the Lady Capulet."

"Has this news been made public?"

"Not to my knowledge, and it will not by my court. Rosaline, what troubles you?"

The young woman took a slow breath, considering how much to reveal. "We were attacked by three men while Benvolio was walking me home. Two of them restrained me while the third engaged him...and the man ran Ben through with his sword while his back was turned. Even so, when the men turned their attention to me, Ben was able to dispatch two of them...and I ended the man that wounded him." Rosaline paused when her voice trembled. Recounting the event was more difficult than she'd anticipated, particularly the moment when her betrothed lost his ability to remain on his feet and she'd feared the worst.

When she stole a glance at Escalus, the same look of shock she'd seen on her Aunt's face was staring back at her once more. "Dear God, Rosaline…"

"It was not a random attack, Escalus. The thugs were commissioned to end Benvolio's life...to ensure that our union could not take place."

Guilt and anger replaced shock and disbelief, and morbid relief eased some of the tension in Rosaline's body. He was still the honorable man she'd known, he still sincerely cared for his subjects...for _both_ Benvolio and herself. If there was anything to be done to protect either of them, she trusted that Escalus would see it done. His hands tightened into fists at his sides. "Did they identify their benefactor?"

Rosaline nodded, and pulled him to sit beside her. "The Lady Capulet was identified by the attackers, and she confirmed as much when I challenged her last night." She dropped her gaze to her hands, fighting back the emotion that tightened her throat. "Your Grace...I fear that so long as she lives, my aunt will continue to try to eliminate my betrothed, both to harm me and to ensure that I cannot escape her." She was relieved to see acceptance in his eyes, not a trace of disbelief or skepticism. "Ben...Ben is a good man, and I cannot bear to be the reason that he comes to more harm."

Silence fell over the pair for a long moment. Rosaline had seen a flash of surprise when she said _'Ben'_...so much less formal than the prince had ever heard from her regarding _anyone_ other than her sister. She had honestly surprised herself, but could not bring herself to correct it. "We will determine an appropriate course of action when the time comes...when Benvolio is healed. Until then, I would like this to be kept quiet. I will have my guard stationed here, to ensure that only his physicians and immediate family will be permitted entrance. Once he is strong enough to move, I will bring both of you to the palace for protection while we work to end this God-forsaken feud once and for all."

Rosaline could not bring herself to speak, but instead threw her arms around his neck. Escalus was startled for an instant before hugging her back, and it took everything in her to regain composure as all of the overwhelming emotions of the last day warred inside of her. The prince drew back, gave her a sad smile, and took his leave.

The young woman took a moment to steady her breathing before rising and returning to the room... _her_ room...where her betrothed still fought for his life. The apprentice softly spoke through the variety of threats to watch for as he healed, and told her where to find him should something go wrong before they returned. Benvolio remained still throughout the exchange, and Rosaline dropped wearily into the seat beside him. Without thought, she reached forward and brushed unruly hair from his forehead, disheartened when he did not respond to her touch. "Please do not give up fighting now," she whispered, settling back into the chair and preparing for a long wait.


End file.
